On the Art of Cooking
by NewPaladin
Summary: 1: The moment Asthar saw more in cooking than just making something to eat. Asthar, OC. 2: Therius questions Asthar's love of cooking. Asthar, Therius.
1. A Simple Gesture

Two more stories for that one challenge. I just forgot to post this. Oops. Also, since this story and the other belong closely together, I post them together. It seems fitting.

All the Asthar-goodness~

* * *

It had been several weeks now since Asthar had a full night of sleep. After the war – after that horrible betrayal – he found it difficult to return to normality. It had never been like this. He couldn't even look at his armour and weapons without remembering the slaughter of…

Cranky from his tiredness, Asthar rose from his bed and slowly paced in his room. He couldn't even exhaust himself, because swords made him sick; he could think of nothing else but these innocent civilians who didn't have to die, but did because he failed in his command. People around him were complimenting him for his leadership abilities while he knew the truth. Knew of his failure. But it would be a far to great insult to rebuke them and he couldn't risk his life's work. Throwing everything away he worked for – it almost gave him hives thinking about it.

But what if the victims would want that?

Rubbing his hands over his sunken eyes, Asthar turned to the windows. The first rays of the rising sun were already colouring the horizon. Asthar figured it was too late for sleeping now anyway so he dressed. He had been roaming through the castle at odd hours for days and people were no longer asking him why.

Asthar wanted the solitariness of barely lit corridors, but he only found pages running around with lighters and soldiers getting ready. Annoyed, he started to avoid the main corridors and soon noticed that he had no idea where he was.

He could kick himself. Leaning against the slick wall, he almost wanted to sink to the ground. His body was so tired and exhausted – he wished he could give in, but the guilt eating away at him kept him upright.

"Go, go, go!"

Asthar startled and just saw the back of a kitchen boy running past him. "Ah," he said to himself. He was near the kitchen area. This part of the castle would soon be full of people so it was high time to leave. Asthar sighed; it was just impossible to be completely alone in a place where so many people were living.

He had half a mind to ask for some breakfast so he wouldn't have to eat with the others. But when he peeked into the kitchen, he only saw people hasten around and a middle-aged man standing in the middle and yelling. "What are you doing, I told you to be ready! Where're the eggs!? Get the dough out! Why are you so incompetent!"

Asthar frowned and while he thought that he shouldn't interfere, his feet ignored it and before he knew, he stood next to the head cook. "This is not how you motivate people." The man whirled around and glared at Asthar. The cook was a lean, tall man with a reddened skin and a thin, blonde moustache. He looked like Asthar could snap him in half with just one hand, but something in the man's demeanour made him seem like a giant.

"Who are you, who let you in!?" The cook looked around for the culprit, which caused the helpers to speed up. Before Asthar could tell him that he let himself in, the man turned to him. "Don't stand around. Either work or get out." Asthar's mouth fell open. That was the last thing he had expected.

The cook seemed to have no time to wait for an answer and pushed Asthar over to a table in the corner of the kitchen. A heap of different vegetables, a cutting board and some knifes were lying there, just waiting to be used. "Peeling and cutting," the cook said and was gone to order around the kitchen helpers before Asthar could object.

Asthar stared down at the table in disbelief. He didn't think he had ever been pushed around like this before. There had never been a reason to. His gaze fell to the knife and his stomach twisted. A disgusting piece of steel designed to kill and maim and hurt. He felt his mouth draw up into a snarl and it was with disgust that he picked it up.

"Are you gonna start working this year!?" the cook suddenly yelled into his ear. "I said peeling and cutting."

Unwillingly and yet glad to do something, Asthar grabbed a random vegetable, a carrot, and started to clumsily peel it.

It took a while until he got into some kind of rhythm. Asthar actually found it soothing to hear so many people around him, but not being paid attention to. It was so relaxing that his eyes started to droop and he almost cut himself several times. He almost forgot that he was handling a blade – though that was hard when he started cutting the vegetables up. But he just forced himself through it – just as he forced himself getting through the day without snubbing anyone.

During the time he was working, kitchen boys or girls were periodically snatching away the vegetables he had cut. At first he spared them no glance, but the more relaxed he grew, the more often he stopped in his work and smiled at the children. Sometimes they noticed and smiled back, sometimes they didn't. Despite the strict regimen of the cook, the work in the kitchen was alright.

When Asthar was finally finished with his job, he cleaned the board and knife. Before he could ask someone where he should put them, the cook stormed past him. "Second drawer, third cupboard." And he was gone again already. Asthar shrugged, slowly warming up to the strange behaviour of the man, and did as he was told.

As soon as he closed the cupboard door, the cook was behind him again. "Here." The cook pressed a cup into Asthar's hand.

"Thank you," Asthar said reflexively before even looking what it was. It was a soup with unevenly cut vegetables swimming at the top.

"It's decent," the cook said. "Despite your work. Have you ever cut something?" Asthar chuckled lowly.

"Obviously not."

"Well, will you drink it or not?" the cook complained and was gone again. When Asthar looked around, he saw him in the next room, watching an older kitchen boy assembling a tray. Asthar took a small sip of the soup. He sighed in comfort at the perfect taste of the soup. He could almost taste all of the vitamins and the broth was clear and strong. Invigorating.

"So, understood that there's no need to glare at knifes?" Asthar startled. The cook had sneaked up on him again. "You got an awfully big storm cloud over you." Asthar struggled for words. "I don't know your problem – never understood you high-and-mighty knights. But your utensils are neither good nor bad. It's what you do with them." Asthar's gaze fell to the soup. The huge carrot bits were gentle rocking in the hot liquid. "You wouldn't be able to make such a soup without a good knife." The cook huffed and whirled away, stalking over to the ovens.

Asthar stood at the work table for a moment, staring at the soup for a moment longer. When he finally managed to shake off his wonder and sleepiness, he ate up, placed the cup in the washing basin and left. His guilt was far from gone, but he wasn't feeling so nauseous anymore when he saw the other knights and their polished weapons.

Still, he had decided. He would no longer draw his blade mindlessly. And he needed to do something to repay his debt. Asthar didn't know how yet, but he would find something.


	2. The Art of Relaxation

"General Asthar, you know you don't have to do this," Therius said in a tone that was almost pleading. Asthar, however, only looked up grinning from the steaming pot in front of him.

"Therius, I'm doing this because I want to," he answered with a laugh and returned his gaze to whatever he was cooking. Therius was hesitant to question his mentor further, but the odd colour of the "food" was worrying him.

"Of course, General, but you don't need to concern yourself with this. We have enough men to–"

"Therius, there is little distraction or time for relaxation on the road." While speaking, Asthar had turned to Therius and waved the cooking spoon towards the camp, splattering the "food" over the ground. "Cooking is a very soothing activity. You have to concentrate so neither you nor the food gets burned, but it is also not so difficult that it tires you. And in the end you'll have made something that you can share with others. Something that'll give you strength and pleasure in equal measure."

Therius was quite speechless. Especially when General Asthar tasted the… liquid and nodded to himself. "Quite perfect, I dare say." Then he picked up another spoon and held it out for Therius. The young knight was frozen for a moment, torn between being afraid of eating this and not wanting to offend the general. In the end he took the spoon and tried to swallow the food before its taste could spread in his mouth.

He was surprised. The liquid was actually very tasty. A bit sweet, a bit sour and fruity. It reminded him of the breakfast mush the knights were eating in the casern. "It's…"

"Good, eh?" Asthar finished for him with a broad grin. "Therius, you should find something that relaxes you as well."

Therius snapped into a salute. "Yes, General." Asthar could only sigh and fill the men's bowls with the mush.


End file.
